


Drunken Bliss

by Kumikoko



Category: Fire Emblem Series, Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Church Sex, F/M, Femdom, Gen, Manuela is a cougar, Profanity, Rape/Non-con Elements
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-05
Updated: 2019-08-05
Packaged: 2020-08-10 00:17:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,170
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20126230
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kumikoko/pseuds/Kumikoko
Summary: Pretty as Manuela is, men are deterred by her drunken, slovenly behavior and lifestyle. Cyril calls her out on it, and she kind of likes that. A bit too much.





	Drunken Bliss

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, did any of ya'll take the time to recruit Cyril? Did any of ya'll gain a C support between him and Manuela? She grabs his sleeve, preventing him from escaping, and manipulates / guilt trips him into listening to her blather on about her failed dates and romances. She then tells him what a good kid he is and how he's just, "oh so mature."   
Now if any of ya'll have ever heard ANY of the incidents across America where a female teacher has sex with a student, their stories are insanely familiar to Manuela's. Drunk, slovenly, desperate for attention...always thinks the student is "just oh so mature." Dude. She's a fucking cougar! 
> 
> And maybe she cares "oh so much about the students" and maybe she's a "hopeless romantic" but none of ya'll can tell me that in a drunken stupor, she wouldn't throw Cyril down onto a church pew and fuck his poor little brains out. I've read of her type so many times and have been horrified and she is one of them and I'm so disturbed by her interactions with Cyril that obviously I have to write about it. 
> 
> Males can be raped by women and society doesn't really seem to believe it is a problem but it IS a problem! Female teachers fucking their students is a problem. A growing problem because school's don't ever wanna do background checks coupled with their so damn desperate for teachers they take anyone who asks and who obviously is willing to be paid pennies. But if they didn't have so many unnecessary staff members teachers could be paid more. But whatever. This ain't my fight. 
> 
> Now, I have limited time on my hands and am dying to get back to playing Fire Emblem Three Houses so I made this story very short and very brief. If you read this story and want to rewrite it to properly show the trauma young boys go through when they're dominated by a woman professor, you are welcome to rewrite it so long as you link me to it since I'd like to read it done properly too. I only briefly touched on the inner angst. 
> 
> Oh, I do NOT own Fire Emblem nor any of its characters!!!

Drunken Bliss

He didn’t know how to say no. He couldn’t even begin to grasp why her lips were against his neck. Hot and soft. _This is wrong_. He swallowed hard as her hands pawed at his subtle, taut muscles hidden beneath his ragged shirt. His hands reached for her. _No, remember the professors seminar. Never put your hands on a drunk woman_. And she was oh so drunk from the dark red stain on her skimpy dress to the intoxicating scent of alcohol wafting from her mouth. He scrunched his nose up with disgust and clenched his hands into fists as her hand slid underneath the waistband of his pants.

Everything had happened so fast.

One minute she was holding him hostage by his sleeve—what was he supposed to do, push her away and gain lady Rhea’s ire? The two women were good friends. Then in another moment she was telling him that he was just oh so mature for his age amongst drunken rambles of another failed date.

“Y’re a good boy…”

Now her soft fingers were curled around his cock and she was frigging him. Sloppily.

“Such a kind, mature boy…” She whispered against his ear, her breath was hot against his skin.

He gasped and turned his head away while shame brightened his cheeks. _What am I supposed to do_? He fretted, wracking his brain for an answer that he knew wouldn’t come. _Push her away? Tell her no_? He wondered, though he knew neither option was actually an option. If he touched her, she would become belligerent. He had seen her react less then ladylike to rejection before and did not want to become more of a target then he already was.

But as she tugged at his pants his reaction was instinctual.

“No!” He shouted, pushing her. 

It went against everything he had been taught during his stay here. He knew better then to tell a professor no, and he knew damn well he shouldn’t put his hands on a lady…but was she a real lady? She was drunken and slovenly. It was a wonder lady Rhea even kept her around as a supposed functioning professor, let alone had her as a good friend.

Manuela took a step back with shock. “Did you jussst…” She stopped, pressing a hand to her cheek. A small bead of red was imprinted onto the pad of her finger from where one of his short nails had scraped her face. “You…you scrrratched me!” She exclaimed, becoming enraged. 

“I didn’t—”

_Smack_!

A million words erupted into Cyril’s brain in response to the smack, but he uttered not one as dark memories from his past surfaced, triggering his mind to become blank. He only remembered his past long enough to forget it again. Some memories were too traumatic to acknowledge.

She took full advantage of his quiet, still demeaner and pushed him down onto the church pew. Cyril knew she was saying something…but he couldn’t hear her anymore. His eyes glossed over with distance, and even as she continued to kiss his neck and paw at him, he barely felt it. It was as though he wasn’t really present.

It was the way he survived until he was brought to the church. It was the reason why when people asked him about his past, he had nothing to say. It was only in the dark areas of his mind that the memories were present, and they weren’t ones he wanted to bring to light.

One of his hands gripped the tall backing of the pew. One foot was on the ground. Another was arched up while his other elbow propped him up.

If anyone caught them, he knew lady Rhea would be mad at him, or worse, disappointed…because he knew that what ever Manuela was doing to him was wrong, and he was wrong for not putting a stop to it. He didn’t know how. He’d told her no. He pushed her away. He got smacked for it.

_I don’t want to be executed_. Cyril thought, fearing the church doctrine for the first time in his life. He knew Lady Rhea wasn’t to blame for the laws—she was merely upholding them as the fine, virtuous woman she was…but the church doctrine…oh, it was rather specific about the punishment for lewd acts, especially those enacted within the confines of the holy church.

His traitorous, hardened cock was procured from within his pants. He could feel precum trickle out and colored red with greater shame. Masturbation was forbidden. He could only imagine how wrong this was, but he simply stared at a holy statue as Manuela lowered herself onto him.

Her movements were unsteady and shaky but with the way she rolled and rocked her hips, it was too obvious she knew what she was doing. He gasped and grunted, squeezing his eyes shut against the foreign feelings fluttering within his heart. Pleasure was a vice, one that poisoned his heart and body into liking the way her wet spongy walls swallowed his penis whole.

Like a viper, she had preyed after him and had groomed him for the last few months—at least enough to get what she wanted from him because she knew he couldn’t say no. He was powerless, despite the way he could fearlessly wield a axe in battle. That, he had no qualms with. He could cut down enemy after enemy.

But Manuela?

His eyes watered with unshed, angry tears.

The church only approved of sexual relations when the couple was married.

Cyril was definitely not married. He was fifteen and he was scared. Shame was what paralyzed him into remaining stiff and still. How could something so wrong feel so good? He didn’t want this. He definitely did not ask for it.

How many times did he have to tell her that the reason no guy wanted to marry her was because she was a drunk slob? A drunk slob who apparently would prey after the youth of the academy.

Of course he had heard rumors before, but what did he care about rumors? His world revolved around Lady Rhea, and yet…she wasn’t the one who was on top of him. No, Manuela was robbing him of his virginity and he saw no way to stop her without being punished worse for it.

After all, wasn’t he wrong for “letting” it happen? That fear flitted through his brain like a tumultuous bat. But what choice did he have?

“Whyyy don’t you look at me when we make looove?” Her slurred words were not lost on him. He grunted stubbornly and pressed his forehead against the hard pew. Her hand was pressing hard against his chest as a reminder that he had no choice but to endure this.

Anything he had to say could be used against him and could be twisted around—Manuela was good at shaping the truth to be of her own making, he had witnessed this time and again. He said nothing and grit his teeth harder. His knuckles turned white with the strain he put himself under to not cum.

But he was young, and his body responded in ways he never thought were even possible. He experienced a orgasm, one that jolted through his body like a flavorful poison that filled him with dread and relief. His cock twitched and from it his sprightly sperm bubbled out of his body and trickled into her.

She was moaning, grabbing at his hair and was touching his face. It didn’t seem to matter that he was left breathless and panting. She wasn’t done, and she kept grinding herself against him, irritating his sensitive, flaccid flesh. There seemed to be no end in sight.

The forced sex only seemed to stop when she got mad that he, ‘couldn’t make her cum,’ as if he had done anything wrong. His ‘failure’ earned him another slap in the face. She stormed off, slurring and wobbling on her feet, just another bar fly whore with a teaching title.

Cyril slowly pushed himself up, tucked his abused cock away into his pants, and panted tiredly. He was shaken from the awful encounter. Left pale and trembling, he rushed out of the cathedral, shame reddening his face.

He was in such a hurry that as he ran through the dormitory hallway he smacked into Raphael and fell back against the ground, hard.

“Whoa little buddy,” Raphael remarked, reaching a large hand out towards Cyril. “Are you alright?” He asked, helping the rattled younger boy up to his feet. “You’re sure in a hurry, but curfew has already came and past an hour ago. Where were—” He stopped, noticing how shockingly pale Cyril’s face was, though his cheeks were strikingly red. He was shaking visibly, and he was panting hard.

What shocked Raphael the most were the glossy tears welling up in Cyril’s eyes. His cheeks were dry, but something had upset the kid a lot which was concerning as all hell because Raphael knew Cyril to be a strong kid. Nothing ever seemed to phase him. Crying didn’t even seem to be in Cyril’s nature and if he had suffered in his past, there never had been evidence of trauma before.

“Are you okay?” Raphael questioned, arching a concerned eyebrow at him as he helped him to his feet.

“I—I—” Cyril stammered as he looked around, lost and confused, trying to remember what words are. His clothes were rumpled, and his hands were shaking.

“Dude, what happened to you?” Raphael repeated, becoming aware of how uncharacteristically upset Cyril was and the seriousness of the situation began to occur to him. “I don’t…it shouldn’t…she…”

He wasn’t making any sense which concerned Raphael more because he knew Cyril to be a straight-forwards kind of guy. Cyril never stuttered, nor had he ever shied away from hard questions but now it was obvious that it was taking all of his strength and resilience to not break down and cry.

Then Raphael noticed the dark bruises on Cyril’s cheek from when he had been smacked around. He felt his heart anger with fury and the need to protect.

“Were some students picking on you because of your, uh, different, er, skin? Just tell me their names, I’ll knock ‘em out!” Raphael declared, grabbing Cyril’s arms. His strong grip was nothing like the way Manuela had grabbed Cyril, yet the mere notion of not being able to readily escape and flee made Cyril break down into sobs.

Surprised, and more concerned then ever, Raphael pulled Cyril against his strong body and held him close, the way he used to hold his sister whenever she was upset about something. Although, she was normally upset over a flower she accidentally stepped on and crushed beneath her feet.

Whatever Cyril was upset about was a whole lot more serious then that. There was something he wasn’t saying. A harsh secret was on his lips but he wouldn’t speak it. He merely cried, flustered and ashamed of himself.

Muffled, distraught words reached Raphael’s ears ranging from, “I didn’t want it,” to, “I couldn’t say no.” Raphael wracked his brains, trying to figure out what some bullies could have done to Cyril to first make him this upset and then to make him say things like that. He came up short for answers and didn’t dare ask again. He opted to just hold Cyril, comforting him with his strong arms and silent presence.

Something had been bad enough to make Cyril crack. Raphael knew his past was questionable, and he knew how some students spoke of him. Anything could have happened. What was clear was that Cyril didn’t want to talk about it. And that was enough for Raphael to not pressure him into talking about it.

“It’s okay, you don’t have to tell me about it little buddy,” Raphael said, rubbing Cyril’s back in soft, soothing motions. “Just know I’m here and you’re safe now.”

If only that was true. Cyril’s mind was tormenting him, playing with the ‘what if this happens to me again on another night she is drunk?’ but his main concern was, ‘what happens when Lady Rhea finds out?’ Manuela wasn’t great at keeping secrets, and there was no doubt in Cyril’s mind that she would be bragging about having sex in the morning. Or she would complain that it sucked.

_I don’t want to be sent away_. Cyril thought, thinking a punishment like that would be worse then death. He didn’t know quite what might happen to him when Lady Rhea found out but he was sure she would find out and he could guess as to what would happen and none of the punishments were friendly to the future he wanted to live out alongside Lady Rhea.

“You’re safe.” Raphael repeated, and for a moment, Cyril let himself believe that within this man’s strong arms, he was safe.

For now.


End file.
